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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24553597">Soar</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Welsper/pseuds/Welsper'>Welsper</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XII</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Airships, Established Relationship, F/M, Post-Canon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:47:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,073</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24553597</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Welsper/pseuds/Welsper</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone is calling out to Balthier and Fran.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Balthier/Fran (Ivalice Alliance)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Fandom 5K 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Soar</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Requiem/gifts">Requiem</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Balthier!”</p><p>The distress in Fran’s voice tore Balthier out of his nap and he ran over to the Strahl’s bridge which Fran was currently working in alone. He nearly tripped as the airship was thrown around violently, bucking and trashing like a wounded animal.</p><p>“Easy, there gal,” he said and pressed a hand to the console as if to soothe her as he sat down in the co-pilot’s seat. “What’s going on, Fran?”</p><p>“The sensors are going haywire! Something, someone is calling out to the Strahl, be it on purpose or not and she cannot take it! Our Skystone is going to burst!”</p><p>“Interference?” Balthier looked at the radar, his eyes wide. That kind of energy… it could only come from a massive Skystone. Much, much larger than even an Imperial Dreadnaught sported. The last time he had seen this was…. “Something of this caliber must come from and airship as big as the Bahamut! Don’t tell me that little brat turned just as insane as his brother!”</p><p>“It’s not like this! I have not ever seen any Skystone with a signature like that.”</p><p>“Maybe it’s an older one?”</p><p>“These skies I have called my home for fifty years now. No such Skystone has ever revealed itself to me.” Their faces were drawn tight as they tried to figure out what it at meant while trying to keep the Strahl steady as she was assaulted by the massive surge of energy.</p><p>“Who are you?” Balthier asked, staring at the radar, wondering who it was, wreaking havoc on their machinery. “Ah, nevermind that! Fran, we are getting out of here or we are going to crash! All power to the back thrusters!”</p><p>“If we do that, then—”</p><p>“It doesn’t matter, we can replace the engine! If we crash here they can’t replace us, if they ever find us! The leading man’s story is not over!” Balthier turned to Fran with a grin, took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “And neither is his leading lady’s.”</p><p>Fran rolled her eyes. Suddenly, her ears twitched and Balthier was immediately alert.</p><p>“We are losing altitude fast!”</p><p>Balthier’s eyes went wide as the Mist swirled up around them. From where? Where had it come from? There was nothing like this on the maps! It shouldn’t be here! It couldn't be!</p><p>“No…”</p><p>“It’s a <i>Jagd</i>”, Fran whispered, her grip on the steering wheel useless. The radar, useless. Their Skystone, useless. All their equipment, useless. They could do nothing as the Strahl plummeted down into the thick Mist, disappearing into the fog as if she had never existed at all.</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
With a groan, Balthier came to, holding his head. It felt like the entire damned Bahamut had fallen onto it – and it <i>had</i>, actually, and this still hurt. Every muscle in his body protested as he moved, but he seemed to be in one piece at least.</p><p>“Fran? Fran!” Carefully, he put one hand on his partner’s shoulder, and turned her as gently as he could and curse that tremor in his hands. If this time, he had… if he had lost her… like he nearly had that dreadful day… But she breathed and coughed and if he were a more religious man Balthier might have sent a prayer of thanks.</p><p>“What happened?” She asked, still a bit out of it perhaps. “The crash…”</p><p>“The Strahl’s a sturdy gal, she made it. And so have we. Now, let’s try to find out where we—oh, damn,” he cursed as he stood up. He stumbled over and Fran caught him. “Thank you.”</p><p>“Careful,” she scolded him. “Your old wounds…”</p><p>“They <i>healed</i>, Fran,” Balthier said and perhaps it was stubborn, but he had no mind for carrying old scars the nightmares that Empire had cooked up with him. The Bahamut was long gone and he didn’t want to think about her or anything she’d done anymore. What his father—Balthier shook his head. Fran understood and didn’t say anything anymore.</p><p>Together, they stood up on wobbly feet, leaning on each other as they always had in all those years. Despite all their bickering – and Balthier loved it dearly – they were a team, perhaps the only two people in this world who truly understood each other. They made their way out of the still Strahl and when they climbed out the extent of the damage became clear. Even in the shadows and the fog of the Mist, they saw this had not been nearly it for the both of them, but for the Strahl as well. One of her wings looked nearly torn off and there was an ugly gash running across her entire hull. What sort of captain was he, to leave his ship in such a state?</p><p>“Nono is going to have a shock,” Balthier said and Fran snorted. “I don’t think we’ve ever handed her back in that bad a shape.”</p><p>“Will she fly?”</p><p>“I would hope so! I’d rather not spend the rest of my life down here. We should be able to bring her to the nearest port anyway… if the Skystone wasn’t cracked too badly.”</p><p>“Once we figure out what caused the fall in the first place,” Fran said and Balthier nodded. All repair would be useless if whatever had brought them down just kept them there. And neither of them would say it, but they had seen the state of the engine. One wrong move, one strong wind and the Skystone was done for. And even if they would be able to leave the ground, even if the Strahl would fly, would break out of that confusion of the interference… would they really reach the next port at all, like this? Finding the interference's cause might very well be just a distraction from that big problem they might not be able to solve.</p><p>“Are you well, Fran? The Mist is not too thick?”</p><p>Fran shook her head and Balthier felt a relief at that. The last thing they needed was to tear each other apart. And Balthier trusted her, more than he trusted anyone else in this world, but he had no mind about fighting her and believing in that a mist-crazed Viera would still be able to recognize her friend. As beautiful as they were, and not one of them was more beautiful than Fran, Viera could be terrifying. He was rather glad to have this one at his side down here rather than against him. That this woman had deemed him worthy enough to stay at her side. Balthier never wanted to let her go.</p><p>“It must be concentrated higher up. But for it to be that dense… it cannot truly be a Jagd, can it?” Fran asked, frowning as she looked up to the sky. “There is no such record of one being here, and the mist almost looked as if…”</p><p>“As if it was collected. And there was this interference. One such only a massive Skystone could be responsible for.”</p><p>As the made their way through this Jagd Maybe, something came into view. And they both must know, must see, but still neither wanted to believe.</p><p>But there she was, as the Mist parted and towered before them. An airship. One that rivaled the Bahamut in size and splendor. Dark and tall and half-buried in ancient earth she awaited them, those visitors brought down to her.</p><p>Only the Bahamut lay dead, nature having reclaimed it, lay dead and abandoned in the deserts of Dalmasca. Never again would she fly, Balthier and Fran had made sure of that. The glossair rings would never turn again, no Skystone would move her.</p><p>This one was certainly not dead. The faint glow of the glossair rings made shadows play on Balthier’s and Fran’s faces as they looked at her in fascination. Balthier reached out and touched the metal of her hull. He could feel the faint hum of the engine beneath it as if an answer, as if a greeting.</p><p>“Look at you… how long have you been here?”</p><p>“It must have been ages since she set… she is all grown over, the Earth has taken her back,” Fran muttered as she traced her fingers over the roots covering the airship. For a moment, she looked up, her ears pointed, and Balthier wondered if the earth had told her something, if even here, the Wood had reached her, but the moment passed too soon. He hoped that one day she would hear it again – she wouldn’t say it, but Balthier knew she missed it.</p><p>“You must have been lonely. Did they leave you here?” Balthier wondered what she was, and where she was from. She was definitely Archadian, but she didn’t match any models, she looked almost… archaic, so to speak. Like the ships in the fairy tales his father had read him before sleep. What battles had she seen? Who had commanded her? Had she brought terror to the skies, or hope to those she fought for? Perhaps it had been both.</p><p>“Look,” Fran said and Balthier followed her pointed finger. A torn <i>sail</i> was draped over the hull, or what was left of it. He could not make out the sigil on it, but it wasn’t House Solidor’s in any case. Or any of the noble houses’ he remembered – and he remembered them all, even if he’d rather not. Countless hours of etiquette lessons had made sure he could name every blasted bastard cousin of every house that had ever set foot in Archades and meant anything at all, was any use to his father’s own plans.</p><p>“An old lady, aren’t you?” He asked the ship and laid a hand on the hull. Dust and dirt crumbled under his fingers and he narrowed his eyes as letters came into view. Fran helped him rub the worst of the dirt off and then the could see it. A name.</p><p>“Ancient Archadian… so you were from there after all.” Balthier muttered as he pressed a hand over the faded letters.</p><p>“You can read it?”</p><p>He nodded.</p><p>“My… my father taught me. Back when he had different interests but his accursed nethicite. Used to tell me all about the wars of ages past, of airships and knights and princesses.” Balthier sighed. “All of that sounded a lot nicer in the stories. In reality, it was just… all of this.”</p><p>“Still, you made it through.”</p><p>“Of course! What kind of leading man would I be otherwise?”</p><p>Fran chuckled, a soft sound that spread warmth through Balthier. She seemed more comfortable now, more open to the world. He was glad for it. The both of them, they had had trouble adjusting to that world outside their cage, yearning to be free and yet bound by the past. But it was getting better.</p><p>“And who is it then who called us down there?”</p><p>“Garuda.”</p><p>“Were you lonely, Garuda?” Fran leaned her forehead against the hull. The glossair rings glowed brighter, as if in answer. “Did you see us in the sky and longed for that once more? So much that you called upon an entire Jagd to bring us down here?”</p><p>Balthier smiled at that. “You’re quite forgiving.”</p><p>“Are we not the same? Did we not yearn for freedom? Do we not still? We are not so different, us and her.”</p><p>“You’re right. But the way she is…”</p><p>Fran nodded. “It would be hard for her to fly. How long have you been here?”</p><p>“More than five hundred years at least, by the writing. Your people are an Empire now, old girl. I wonder what they were like when you soared these skies…”</p><p>They found an entrance and made their way inside. Even there, plants and vines had found their home, flowers blooming everywhere. Animals and monsters had made their nest, none too disturbed by the intruders. It was peaceful. There were signs of battle, here and there where one could still see them, where they weren’t corroded and grown over. So this was what had happened… perhaps none too different from what fate had befallen the Bahamut in the end. No airship was too great to not be brought down in the end.</p><p>Light shone through cracks in Garuda’s hull, illuminating the dark as Fran and Balthier walked through corridors no person had set in foot for a long, long time now. But looking at the life down here, it seemed she hadn’t been lonely at all.</p><p>“Balthier… this ship…”</p><p>Balthier nodded, understanding. “She’s become one with the Earth long ago. And I don’t think she’d want it any other way… but why call us then?”</p><p>“Did she? Because she wanted to fly?”</p><p>They came to a halt as the bridge lay before them.</p><p>“So it was like that, huh…” Balthier smiled at the view before them. A Skystone hovered before them, locked into the middle of the platform – airships hadn’t been built like that for a long time now, ever since the dangers of mist had been discovered. This one flew freely, shining its brilliant light upon the vines and trees growing everywhere. It felt different from the Skystones they made these days. It felt alive. Balthier could feel the yearning from it.</p><p>Fran stepped forward and when she touched it, it glowed a little brighter. She looked beautiful like this, her hair and skin shimmering in the light of the stone.</p><p>“I see… you didn’t want to fly anymore, did you, Garuda? You want to stay here, with your friends,” Fran said softly. “Who have made you their home. But this part of you… it still longs for the sky. You’ve kept it at bay as long as you could, did you not?” Fran smiled at the glowing Skystone, leaking mist. “But it threatened to overwhelm you. So you waited here. You waited for the people who might take it away. Who would fulfill its dreams, when you yourself no longer could or would.”</p><p>“Fran, careful…”</p><p>“This much will not drive me berserk, Balthier, worry not. It’s not like the Bahamut. What say you, then?”</p><p>Balthier looked closely upon the stone. No matter how powerful, it was old. It was like nothing he had ever seen before. He wouldn’t be able to build one like this, perhaps no one would. His father, maybe… Balthier felt sad, for some reason. This man, he had been no good… but Balthier just knew, if he had seen this Skystone, his eyes might have lit up and perhaps for only a minute he would have forgotten about all these ambitions and see magicite for the beauty it was and not a tool of war, of strife.</p><p>But his father was no longer. The war was no longer. Neither theirs or the one that had torn the Garuda from the skies. What was left was an airship that had become a home, a haven and was content like this. What was left was this strange Skystone, yearning for one more flight and threatening to rip this very home apart, finding no outlet for this desire and power.</p><p>“I say the Strahl needs more power to get out of here.”<br/>
Balthier put his hand onto the stone, next to Fran’s. The hum vibrated through his body, warm and powerful and so full of want. It was the answer they had waited for.</p><p>“Will you come with us, then? Will you release this Jagd and fly with us, once more?” Balthier laughed as the light pulsed.</p><p>“It sounds like a yes,” Fran said with a smile.</p><p>“Come on then. Let’s show you how the skies of hundreds of years into the future look.”</p><p>The Skystone hovered between them as they made their way back. They passed those remnants of old, that life of new, and for a moment, Balthier wondered if something like this might happen to the Bahamut in many years – if he had been wrong after all. If that nethicite would live again, in a way it perhaps never had during their time, if the Bahamut would wish for it once more to fly. If there would be sky pirates in the future, passing the ruins of an old city whose name they did not know and an airship whose purpose for destruction was long forgotten. Who fell in a war no one remembered, between countries whose last rulers were long gone. Who yearned not for the skies ablaze, but the wind as it soared, the clouds as it rose higher and higher.</p><p>It was a nice image.</p><p>“There she is,” he said as the Strahl came into view. “She doesn’t look like much right now, but she can fly. What do you think?”</p><p>And for a mere moment, on the wind and in their minds, they heard it.</p><p>Thank you.</p><p>Piece by piece, the Skystone flew apart. Hundred, no, thousands of shimmering crystals hovered around them, as they made their way towards their new home. And with it followed that mist that had shrouded the Garuda in darkness, that Jagd she had called upon in her desperation, her act as a protector not of the sky but the ground now and all that lived on it.</p><p>Fran and Balthier watched as the shimmering mist and crystals seeped into the cracked Skystone of the Strahl. Watched as fissures repaired themselves and the stone grew more brilliant with every moment. Watched as the fog of the Mist receded into the stone itself. Watched as it shone in all the colors of the rainbow before them, the strangest and most beautiful Skystone either of them had ever seen.</p><p>“Now let’s see what you can do,” Balthier said and followed Fran to the bridge.</p><p>“Glossair rings are turning!” Fran said as she checked the parameters. Balthier nodded.</p><p>“Skies are clear, let’s bring her back where she belongs.”</p><p>And the Strahl rose. Higher and higher, humming and brimming with new life. Beneath them, the Garuda was visible in all her glory now, machine and nature as one.</p><p>“Take good care of your family,” Fran said with a smile. “As you have been, all these years.”</p><p>“See you!”</p><p>Birds followed the Strahl for a while, soaring on her currents. Like they were seeing their friend off. It had nearly destroyed them by the end, but it had still been part of that home of theirs for so long.</p><p>“How does it feel to be in the sky again? Me, I’d never leave if I could. You were strong, to hold out all these–” A coughing fit overcame Balthier. Fran frowned at him and he waved her off.<br/>
“Ah, it’s nothing. Just all that stuffy air down here I suppose.”</p><p>“It does not sound like nothing.”</p><p>“Ah, is there anything better than a beautiful woman to worry about you and your ship in the sky? You are right. This is not nothing. This is everything.”</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
The coughing did not stop.</p><p>It did not stop as they reached the port and Nono commented on their strange new Skystone, it did not stop as the repairs were finished. It only got worse.</p><p>When he collapsed one day, Fran caught him in her arms.</p><p>“It’s the mist,” she said quietly. “It must be the mist from that day…”</p><p>“We do keep our Skystones shielded for a reason,” Balthier said with a weak smile. “You Viera… you become stronger. Us humes? I suppose we just die.”</p><p>“You are not dying.”</p><p>That was the last thing Balthier remembered her saying.</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
That tear they had been given that day glowed as the barriers yielded to it. Vaan had given it to her, said she should be the one to have it. If she ever wanted to return.</p><p>Fran had not wanted to return like this. Not with the man she loved in her arms, weak and feverish and poisoned with Mist.</p><p>The doctors had been no help. They had not even seen a case like this in ages – and how could they, no one had made Skystones like this in hundred of years. But perhaps… perhaps her sister would know. Perhaps her sister would know how to help Balthier. The Wood might help. It would not answer Fran, but her sister it would tell its secrets. Long had Fran forgotten the cure for the mist-crazedness that overcame the warriors shielding the Wood.</p><p>If she was still Jote’s sister. It was Balthier’s only hope now.</p><p>The villagers of Eruyt eyed her with suspicion, as they would any outsider. And that was what she was now. What she had been for many years. What she would always be. An outsider. An outcast. An outlaw. Someone who fit neither here nor in the world outside.</p><p>The same as Balthier, then. Neither of them had a home to return to, so they had made the sky into this. And Fran did not want to return to that home alone.</p><p>“Fran. You came back. The forest is glad to have its child back.”</p><p>“Jote. I am no longer…”</p><p>“A mother does not forget her child, no matter how far it strays,” Jote said softly.</p><p>“Still you lie,” Fran said, Balthier and the weight on her heart heavy on her both. Jote did not answer.</p><p>“Why are you here? Why bring him?”</p><p>“To cure him.”</p><p>“There is no cure for a hume here.”</p><p>“Help him.” She didn’t budge. She would not.</p><p>“The law of the wood—”</p><p>“Help him!”</p><p>“You forget yourself, sister.”</p><p>Fran snarled at her, at that sister, former sister so set in her ways, so hostile to the outside world that she would rather they all perish here rather than try and live with them.</p><p>“I forget nothing. You forget there is a whole world outside there! A world he helped protect! Do you think Archadia would have stopped at mere barriers should they have desired something in these woods? Do you think they would have cared if the wood screamed in anguish as they tore her apart for whatever spare parts they needed for their monstrosities?”</p><p>“An Empire that would pass like all they others before it without any of you involved just the same. They always do, sister.”</p><p>“Not this one. It would have swallowed us all. You and me and him and this wood. These woods are mine no longer. But what I have lost here I have gained in a world, the one you live in same as the humes do. This forest is not a world on its own! It is Ivalice just the same!”</p><p>“So you are telling me we owe this hume? Would you name him woodwarder too, this man?”</p><p>“Mock him not,” Fran hissed. “Mock not my partner.”</p><p>Jote’s gaze softened.</p><p>“Quell your anger, child. It pains the wood if you raise your voice and fight here where you should feel safest.”</p><p>“This has not been my home for a long time now,” Fran said quietly, running her fingers over Balthier’s cheek. He was burning up and it hurt. It drew something tight in her chest, it turned her stomach, it hurt, it hurt so much. No, she could not lose him, not after everything. The first hume who had ever looked at her like something else, like a person and not some exotic beast come from the forest to eat children. Come with me, he had said, let’s take to the skies together. And they had, and though she had never told him, those had been the happiest years of her life.</p><p>She should have told him.</p><p>“Please, Jote. Please. I cannot bear to lose him.”</p><p>“He is a hume, Fran, if not —”</p><p>“I care not! He is with me now and I would not lose him! <i>Please</i>.”<br/>
Jote stood still for a moment, her eyes closed. Was she listening to the Wood? Was she asking for Fran? Asking for permission, for help, for this foolish runaway child and her foolish runaway hume?</p><p>“The Wood… it would help you. And him. She would try. Find the Great Elm and bring your wish to it. I know not if you will find what you are looking for… if it could work for one such as him.” Jote smiled and she reached out. Fran felt her breath catch at the gentle touch of Jote’s hand upon her cheek. “But you are right, sister… perhaps in this world, whether we are Viera or hume… perhaps it matters not. You must forgive one such as I… these laws are older than you and I both and they might always be here. You thought they bound you, held you back. I thought… I still think they protect us. But I also love my sister… my wayward sister. And I know that fool of a sister loves this man. And so does the Wood understand your bond.”</p><p>Jote gently pushed her forward. “Go now, quickly. Your feelings, I am sure they will reach.”</p><p>Balthier’s rattling coughs were the only sounds in the forest as Fran wandered deeper, deeper into parts she had long set no foot into. Parts she could not remember ever setting foot into even as she had lived there. Parts where only the ailing ever went, hoping to seek relief from the wounds that plagued them.</p><p>“Stay with me,” she said. “This is no end for a leading man.”</p><p>But there was no answer from him, no quip, no joke, no sharp wit to get a rise out of her, to make her heart beat faster and her fondness for this strange man grow. Only pained, quiet breaths.</p><p>“Please. Do not go. The Strahl… she needs two pilots. She needs you.”</p><p>She thought of that ship of theirs, the one they had stolen that day. His mad laughter when he had thrown his Judge’s plate out of the open hangar and turned his back onto that cruel city that had sought to clip his wings.</p><p>How the Strahl had always been with them, accompanied them through all their adventures, their bad and worse ideas, their heists and daring flights. How she had missed her after that day and how happy she had been once they had taken her back. Balthier had complained all day about the changes Vaan had made to her. Fran had to laugh as she thought back to it.</p><p>She thought of that Skystone of hers, the one that now safely shone within her, giving her the power to fly, to take them anywhere. To take them anywhere <i>together</i>. No, she did not want it to think it had doomed him. Had doomed them. She wanted once more to fly together.</p><p>“Do not go,” she said again. “<i>I</i> need you.”</p><p>It was then that Fran heard the voice of the Wood. Heard it in the rustling of the leaves and the chatter of the animals, in the grass and the moss and the bark. Heard it call out to her, call out to her for the first time in so many years. She knew not the words anymore, she had forgotten how to listen long ago. Had traded that knowledge for that of the world, for open skies and someone by her side.</p><p>But for just this moment, she understood.</p><p>She did as she was bade and laid Balthier down in front of the elm – he looked so small. He never did when he was awake, his energy and drive filling any room.</p><p>She watched as the Mist was drawn out of him, into the ancient roots, who grew thicker and stronger for it, watched as the elm purified it. Took all that sorrow into itself. All that pain.</p><p>Tears dripped down Fran’s cheek as she heard Balthier’s breath even out, heard that horrid cough vanish into the air with the last strands of Mist that soon dispersed as though they had never been.</p><p><br/>
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Balthier head felt foggy when he woke up. He blinked against the light in his eyes and groaned when he shifted. It felt soft though… When his eyes had adjusted after long – how long had it been? - darkness, he was looking up at Fran. He was laying with his head in her lap and a pleasant shiver ran down his back at the light scratching she applied to his neck when she felt him stir.</p><p>“You’re awake,” she said and had there ever been a man luckier than him? To be greeted with a lovely woman’s smile, to be cradled in her lap and held so gently. It was certainly worth the pain. “I was unsure whether you would ever be again…”</p><p>Her voice was so quiet and Balthier reached out to hold a trembling hand to her cheek. She leaned into the touch and kissed his palm.</p><p>“I apologize for worrying you. But if the Bahamut did not manage it, what chance did some centuries old rust bucket really have?” Balthier coughed – the rust bucket did manage some things. But to be done in, just like that? He wouldn’t have it. And so, it seemed, neither would Fran. “None. Not against you.”</p><p>“’tis not my doing alone. The Wood helped. Healed you.”</p><p>“Ah, so it did? I am glad. I thought for certain she would be mad at me for keeping her loveliest daughter at my side. And she best not think I will be giving her back now either!”</p><p>Fran laughed.</p><p>“But do… do tell her I said thank you.”</p><p>“Tell her yourself. I am not of this Wood anymore. My voice reaches her as little as yours would.”</p><p>“Well. Thank you, Golmore,” Balthier said, not sure who he was addressing, but if it was as the Viera said, then perhaps she would know either way.</p><p>“Yes… thank you,” Fran said softly, her hand warm on his cheek. She was beautiful like this, hair spilling over her shoulders, out of her armor and in a simple woolen dress, spun from rough linen and a blend with the wooden structure of the hut. Sometimes, Balthier could not believe she was with him. But he was glad for it all the same.</p><p>“Do you think she heard?”</p><p>Fran shrugged. “I know not. But I hope she did…”</p><p>When he made to sit up, she gently pressed him down again. Well. He would not say no to that.</p><p>“We can… stay like this a while longer.”</p><p>Balthier smiled at her and saw her return it. “Yes. Always, with you.”</p><p>The skies would always be there for them.</p><p>And so would Balthier and Fran, for each other.</p>
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